


She’s touch, smell, sight, taste and sound (or five times Rose Tyler piqued one of the Doctors many senses)

by sapphire_child



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Community: then_theres_us, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 22:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12492136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child
Summary: There are so few truly perfect moments in life, but he’d definitely wager that this is one of them.





	She’s touch, smell, sight, taste and sound (or five times Rose Tyler piqued one of the Doctors many senses)

 

_She’s blood, flesh and bone_  
_No tucks or silicone_  
 _She’s touch, smell, sight, taste and sound..._

 

  
He lands them a couple of years into her future on a mission to find her a Tesco’s and somehow they end up right in the middle of London in a blizzard. The weather is wild, the snowfall beyond the likes of anything she’s ever seen if the popeyed expression on her face is any indication. The Palace of Westminster looks like a picture postcard, the face of Big Ben shining out into the dim, cold night like a beacon.

“Oh beautiful!” he proclaims, gleeful despite the bite of wind and snow. “Snow, real snow! Blimey, I must’ve landed us in 2009!”

“What?” Rose yells back at him, having just managed to struggle up to join him. It’s nothing short of freezing on Westminster Bridge and her teeth are already chattering.

“2009! The great blizzard of 2009!” he yells above the driving wind. “Biggest snowstorm seen in London in over twenty years! Marvellous!”

She shouts something back and even with his superior sense of hearing he can’t make it out. The wind is incredible, roaring along the bridge and making them both struggle a little to stand upright. Rose suddenly looks worried beneath the hood of her jacket and she yells at him again, a question.

Instead of trying to guess at what answer he’s meant to be giving her, the Doctor reaches out a hand and takes hers (she’s not wearing any gloves) leaning close so she’ll be able to hear.

“Who cares? Let’s run!”

Her eyes light up and they do just that – run all the way to the other side of the bridge, hand in hand, kicking up flurries of snow behind them as they go. Once they’ve reached their destination they stop, gasping with laughter and lean back against the railing together, warm now despite the biting chill.

“This is where we found the Nestene Consciousness isn’t it?” Rose remembers suddenly and he grins proudly at her.

“Certainly was!” they still have to shout to hear each other but really it’s half the fun. “S’also where the Slitheen crashed in the Thames!”

“Only after they trashed Big Ben!” Rose laughs and looks across the bridge at the great clock. “Poor Ben!”

He grins even wider then and marvels at the warm-cold feel of her hand in his before he too looks up at the clock tower.

“I remember the day she started ticking!” he leans in to tell her, showing off. “D’you want to go see it?”

“When was that then?” Rose asks, turning to him too and she’s so close that he feels the warmth of her breath on his cheek.

“1859!” he shouts. “ _Or_ we could jump forward a few months and celebrate its 150th birthday!”

Rose laughs and squeezes his hand. “Maybe some other time yeah?”

They grin at each other and look back across the snowy bridge together. Several pedestrians hurry past in heavy winter coats but for once the Doctor and Rose stand still. Trapped between them are their hands, still linked, warm and protected from the cold and wind. Her skin is very soft as he strokes the back of her thumb with his and wonders at the perfect alignment of their palms.

There are so few truly perfect moments in life, but he’d definitely wager that this is one of them. As they stand there, her fingers slide through his snugly and then grip tight without warning. His life line presses against hers and he feels her pulse beating in her wrist, thrumming against his own like they’re singing a silent duet.

 

  
_the spaces between my fingers  
are right where yours fit perfectly..._

 

  
Rose has this real issue about letting the TARDIS wash her clothes but the Doctor isn’t foolish enough to press her about it. In truth he’s not so sure that it’s just because she’s weirded out by the idea of a sentient time ship sorting through her underwear. In fact he’s almost certain that it’s mainly just her failsafe excuse to go home every once in a while and see her mother. Not that he really minds – it means that he gets at least a day’s worth of tea and biscuits out of Jackie.

It seems only fair really.

The TARDIS is playing up a little bit on this particular laundry day so Rose goes on ahead with her bag of washing while he checks over some things and then saunters up to the flat so he can raid the biscuit jar.

Instead he walks right into the middle of a blazing row.

“You can just go down to the Laundromat and clean your own clothes madam!” Jackie is yelling from inside as he draws up to the door. “If you wanted me to do your flipping laundry then maybe you should’ve thought about calling once in a while and asking me how I was doing!”

The Doctor flinches at the sound of a slamming door and after a moment he pokes his head tentatively through the door. Rose is standing in the hallway looking rather shell-shocked.

“Everything alright?” he asks and Rose presses her lips together and shoves her bag of dirty washing at him.

“Give me a sec.” She says brusquely and disappears back into the flat, returning in a minute with a jingling handful of coins.

“Are we going somewhere?” he asks in bemusement as she steers him from the flat and then leads the way downstairs.

“Yeah,” Rose pushes a strand of hair back from her face as she holds the door open for him. “The Laundromat.”

“Riiiiiight.” He says. Then, “Why are we going to the Laundromat?”

“Mum’s broken up with Howard.” Rose sighs. “And I haven’t even called her so she couldn’t whinge about it and now I’ve rocked up with all my washing...”

“That’s the bloke who kept food in his dressing gown right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well she’s probably well shot of him then.”

Rose turns a sly grin in his direction at that. “You want to go and tell her that?”

The Doctor looks at her in utter horror and Rose’s look turns smug.

“Yeah I didn’t think so. Come on then, I’ll show you how _normal_ people do their washing.”

The Laundromat smells unnervingly of socks and the Doctor watches in honest fascination as Rose deftly separates her clothes from each other into little piles and then pops the first load into one of the many front loading machines. They are followed by an even measure of washing powder and then a squirt of some unidentifiable liquid. As she shuts the door and puts the machine to the right setting he investigates the chemicals she’s using. The washing powder is generic enough but when he picks up the little bottle of fabric softener and takes a whiff he nearly falls over.

He has much more advanced senses than a human and as such can pretty much rattle off an extensive list of what Rose may or may not smell of at any given time. There are a few that have taken him a while to catalogue however and now the reason behind that final, undefinable scent of lavender that has always lingered around her has finally been explained.

It’s in the fabric softener – of _course_ it’s in the fabric softener. It’s always baffled him, that hint of man-made lavender. Experimentally he swipes his finger around the neck of the bottle and sniffs it thoroughly before putting his tongue out to taste it.

Unfortunately Rose catches him and he’s left standing there with his tongue hanging out and a guilty expression on his face.

Rose just rolls her eyes good naturedly. “Oh go on then. Just don’t poison yourself or something daft.”

The washing machine is filling with water by now and he hastily wipes the fabric softener off onto his trousers before offering, “You do know the TARDIS could do all your washing for you?”

He leans against one of the washers that is already sluggishly swirling a strangers clothes around and Rose turns her back to him as well and leans up against him.

“Well yeah but where’s the fun in that?” she asks and the vibration of the machine behind him travels through him to her and makes her voice wobble. It’s almost like a massage really. He just hopes the machine doesn’t fall out of the wall and squash them both – he doesn’t trust human engineering and with good reason. “No chance of an adventure if I just let the TARDIS do all my washing for me.”

The Doctor snorted. “Only you could think that a trip to the _Laundromat_ was an adventure.”

Rose is grinning, he can tell, as he takes his hands from where they’re awkwardly stuck into his pockets and instead puts them around her waist. She tips her head back lazily against his neck and he leans his down comfortably against hers before inhaling deeply.

The lavender smell is there he notices, and it seems stronger than ever before. Of course it’s just him noticing it more now that he knows that it’s there amongst all the other smells; the salty sweat, the fruity scent of her favourite perfume, peroxide and shampoo, mascara and makeup and just the faintest hint of stardust and time to tickle his sensitive nose.

They stay there until the washing cycle finishes, she half-dozing and he's just breathing her in.

 

  
_When you wake my head is resting on your shoulder  
I'm breathing you in..._

 

  
They’re post adventure somewhere in Italy during the early 20’s (he thinks) and Rose is utterly filthy after getting covered in soot and smuts from the alien cat that had been living in the chimneys of the hotel they’d landed in. It turned out to be quite a friendly alien really, just very lost and frightened to death. Once it was pulled out of the chimney and cleaned up a bit it hardly looked any different from a regular Earth cat (if bigger and with an extra set of legs) and the hotel managers little girl had been delighted to finally get the pet kitty she’d always wanted.

The manager is equally as glad to have gotten the cat out of his hotel and patched things up with his daughter at the same time. He’s so grateful in fact that he’s given Rose and the Doctor the penthouse suite in his hotel for the night to say thank you.

Rose is ecstatic by their luck and charges around the massive space whooping like a lunatic. The Doctor mostly just smiles and follows, watching her. With the places she’s grown up in she’s so unused to opulence like this that it makes him look at it with fresh eyes too.

“Aren’t you going to have a shower?” he wants to know but she’s too busy exploring, spreading soot in her wake. “Um...Rose? I know we just did Giulio a big favour but I still can’t see them being too happy about you leaving soot everywhere in his penthouse suite.”

Rose pauses from where she’s jumping around on the bed and looks guiltily down. “Oh.” she says and then jumps off, stumbling slightly as she lands. “S’pose I should. Bathroom’s through there yeah?”

She charges off without waiting for an answer and he hears an audible gasp from her as she enters the room, “Oh my _god_ have you _seen_ this place Doctor? It’s _gorgeous_!”

Chuckling, the Doctor flops down on the bed to scan through the room service booklet, quickly finding a vast array of foods that sound appetising – especially if their host is willing to offer them free room service to go with their lovely free room. With this heartening thought in mind he bounds up and over to the bathroom.

“Roooose.” He draws her name out as he grasps the doorframe so he can swing his wiry body into the room...and that’s where he stops dead.

Having been so absorbed in his perusal of the room service menu he had completely forgotten that Rose was heading off to shower and he’s just walked in on her halfway through getting undressed.

She looks up and over her bare shoulder at him, startled by his sudden presence but not angry or upset. Straightening, she almost goes to cover herself for modesty’s sake but after a moment realises that she’s got her back to him anyway so it doesn’t really matter. Instead she manages a slightly nervous laugh and says, “Hello.”

“Hello.” He replies dumbly and she swings her arms restlessly for a moment before giving a half shrug and then continuing on where she left off.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before right?” she throws back over her shoulder as she bends to unlace her trainers.

She is right. He has seen her in a lot less but usually when that happens he’s too busy making sure she’s alright (and not frostbitten or hurt) or yelling at whoever was responsible for her nakedness to really _look_ at her. Now he can’t help but notice the curve of her spine, the dimples peeking out from the waistband of her jeans, the half hidden swing of her breasts as she finishes unlacing her shoes and stands up again to toe them off...

“So what is it then?” she asks as she begins to unbuckle her belt. “You find a sentient light fitting or something?”

He snaps out of it. Barely.

“Nope. Even better!” He brandishes the booklet at her even though she can’t see him. “Room service menu!”

“Room service?” Rose wrinkles her nose at him over her shoulder as she discards her belt and then sets to work on her jeans. The Doctor tries very hard not to look at anything but her face. “Can’t we go out for food somewhere instead? I mean, we’re in Italy right? We could go out somewhere.”

“With what money?” the Doctor asks, leaning up against the doorframe. She’s shimmied her jeans down her legs and is now kicking her feet free. “I can’t exactly go sonic a cash point before they’ve even been invented. Or are we going to use the psychic paper and pretend we’re rich and famous and have a pre-existing tab somewhere?”

“Rich and famous – I like that!” Rose hoots with laughter and then looks back at him, knickers balled up in one hand. “Catch!” she calls out cheekily and he automatically does just that, ending up with a handful of very warm cotton which he promptly flings away when he registers what he’s just done.

Rose laughs at him again then and clambers into the shower, pulling the curtain shut to hide her naked body from him.

He almost breathes a sigh of thankfulness before he discovers that the shower is lit somehow from within and it’s thrown her silhouette into sharp relief on the shower curtain.

As he stares and swallows Rose calls out, “Know any good restaurants nearby? You must’ve been here before at some point...” over the sound of the rushing water and he takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, props his chin on his hand and considers things.

Time Lords don’t normally do odd human things like get randy at the sight of beautiful, naked women. But even he has to admit that there’s something sensuous and rather beautiful about the shadow play he watches as Rose slowly scrubs the soot from every inch of her skin and then washes it out of her hair with just as much care.

Should he tell her? He really should tell her that he can see her through the curtain. But then she was standing there in front of him not two minutes ago with nothing on and she’d barely even batted an eyelid. When did this become normal, he wonders? When did watching her get undressed and take a shower become a commonplace occurrence in their life together?

He jumps when she turns the water off and then pops her head around the edge of the shower curtain.

“Chuck us a towel?” she requests and he obliges her instantly. Thankfully she retreats back into the shower to wrap herself up in it before pulling back the curtain and stepping out, hair dripping onto her shoulders. “So, thought of anywhere yet?”

Slowly he becomes aware of the fact that she’s waiting for an answer – he’s been too busy taking stock of the droplets of water trembling at the end of her hair.

“Huh-wha? Oh. Oh yes, I might know a place or two. Or, you know, we could always ask Guilio. He’s bound to know somewhere we could go.”

“I’ll have to head back to the TARDIS then,” Rose says, poking at her ruined clothes with a curious toe. “None of this lot is going to be any good to me. Reckon she’s got some of those dresses they all wore in the 20’s? The ones with the fringing and stuff?”

“I guess.” He shrugs. “You’d best see if there’s a robe or something in the cupboards. Can’t have you tearing around the hotel in a towel.”

There aren’t. And several minutes later they’re traversing the corridors and passing a variety of startled patrons.

“Well done on scandalising all the guests.” He congratulates her after a woman covers her teenage son’s popping eyes as they pass them. Rose saunters, unconcerned down the corridor. “Do this often do you? Wander around hotels wearing a towel?”

Rose merely grins. “You’d rather I lose the towel?”

The Doctor gives up. With the mood she’s in right now he wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to talk him into doing a nudie run through reception or something equally ridiculous. At the same time though he can’t help but watch her as she skips alongside him in her towel. He loves seeing her so happy, carefree. Especially because he knows that it’s (in part at least) due to him.

He thinks that Rose Tyler skipping down a hotel corridor wearing a towel might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

 

  
_But in all the ocean’s blur, the planes and taxis  
And the places I have been and left behind  
Nothing’s to me as beautiful as..._

 

  
They’ve landed in New South Wales because Rose woke up with a sudden craving for raspberries today and apparently the ones grown here are organic or something. Also, the Doctor miraculously owns some little wicker baskets that they can collect them in (which is all very quaint and lovely).

Or at least, it _would_ be if it wasn’t the middle of an Australian summer and hot as hell even though it isn’t even midday yet. Rose sweats it out even in the flimsy sundress she’s filched from the wardrobe and even the Doctor has conceded to take off his jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves.

Of course they eat twice as many berries than ends up in the baskets but eventually they’re both filled and they retreat underneath the shade of the nearest tree where there’s a handy log to be sat on. There they proceed to devour the contents of his basket, hands dipping into the sweet berries over and over until their fingertips are stained crimson.

When there’s only a handful left they take turns to eat them one at a time and then there’s only one left. Brown and hazel meet over the top of the basket and then they both lunge for it at the same moment. There is a brief tussle but eventually Rose threatens him with a sticky red hand near his hair and he yelps and ducks and she uses her advantage to snatch up the final berry and cram it in her mouth.

“Hey!” he protests, pouting, and Rose grins and pokes her tongue out with the fruit balanced precariously on the very tip. “That’s _mine_.”

Her tongue retreats and she sucks on the fruit for a moment before gamely reaching into her mouth and scooping it out again.

“Still want it?” she dares him and he doesn’t even hesitate, just darts a hand out and pops the berry into his own mouth.

It tastes sweet and zesty and like _Rose_ and she’s staring at him like she can’t quite believe _what_ she’s seeing and it’s then that he sees the trickle of juice that’s running down her chin and his mouth runs dry.

Her breath hitches in surprise as he leans in and he almost feels bad...except the look on her face when he merely licks the juice off her face and then pulls back is priceless.

“You-” she begins and then reaches down into her basket and squashes a whole handful of berries right into his face.

And the last of the Time Lords sits there with half-crushed raspberries running down his face and falling onto his (until now) clean shirt in great big glops and he laughs so hard and long that he actually falls off the log and onto his arse and he _still_ can’t stop laughing. Rose seizes the opportunity to jump on him and once she’s pinned him down she retaliates furiously.

He laughs so hard he’s all but screaming, begging her to _stop, you’re tickling me, it’s too much, please!_ but she doesn’t stop until all the berries have been plucked off and eaten and she’s planted a great big lick right up the side of his face.

“You are _evil_!” he proclaims once she’s released him and rolled off. He scrubs hard at the wet spot where she licked him and feels the stickiness of juice still there. “Evil! An evil berry stealer.”

Rose laughs loudly from the ground beside him and when he looks at her the skin around and inside her mouth is stained red and sticky too and he can’t help but lean over and kiss her.

As far as the Doctor can ascertain there are two different kinds of kisses, the kind with intent (romantic) or the kind without. The latter is quick and does not involve the tongue. The former is slower and does not necessarily need to involve the tongue but it definitely helps with the sexy-romantic-ness. Apparently. He’s not really an expert but anyway:

This kiss is one of the former.

His tongue curls briefly in her mouth, revelling in the taste of her and when they both pull back, eyes wide open staring at each other in wonder there is a moment of stunned silence.

“You taste like raspberries!” They say at exactly the same moment and then they collapse into endless, endless giggles.

 

  
_It’s that pivotal moment  
It’s impossible  
This kiss! This kiss!_

 

  
It’s silent.

At least it seems to be at first. When the TARDIS door squeaks open and they step out into the heavy air of a forest who knows where they are still talking but then the door shuts behind them and they quickly stop because it’s silent, so silent.

Of course it isn’t really. The sounds filter in slowly to their consciousness but even then they are so very quiet – the low whistle of birds and the creak of old wood deadened by the mist that hangs thick in the air.

There is no wind. It is still.

Rose’s hand curls around his uncertainly as they stand there. She’s unnerved by the quiet, is tense and still and waiting for danger to come roaring out of nowhere. She is so ready beside him, her eyes scanning the area, ears desperately tuned to the slightest change in their environment.

This, he thinks is why humans always manage to evolve and carry on the way they do. Hundreds upon thousands of years since they’ve had to run away from predators and yet here is Rose, a girl from one of the biggest cities on her planet and so completely attuned to her surroundings that if he pressed down with his left foot and made the twig beneath it snap...

Her eyes flash downwards and he feels an absurd thrill of pride in her. It’s just instinct after all but he’s from a much more advanced species with better senses and all he really wants to do is crash about and disrupt all the quiet. He’s not much for quiet, prefers it when there’s things happening, music playing, people talking.

“Well!” he says loudly and Rose jumps. “Well,” he repeats. “Shall we go take a look then?”

Rose nods but says nothing, allowing him to lead on, their feet making nice crunching noises with every step they take. It’s satisfying, breaking the oppressive silence of this forest with sounds of movement and life. They haven’t gone far though when the Doctor registers another noise, a low hum that seems to be coming from close by. Turning his head, he sees Rose’s lips half-form a word and realises with amazement that the noise is coming from her.

“What?” he says and Rose blinks up at him.

“What?” she echoes nervously.

“Did you say something?”

“No I was just...humming.”

“Humming what?”

She’s blushing now as she tells him, “I dunno. It’s just this song...” and he presses her once more.

“What song?”

She flushes again but then opens her mouth obligingly and he’s utterly astonished by what comes out. He’s heard her sing before, but only in short snatches and not really by herself. Now, even singing without accompaniment in a space so acoustically unsound she’s so close to pitch perfect that he actually chokes a little.

_"Once there was a way to get back homeward_   
_Once there was a way to get back home_   
_Sleep pretty darling do not cry_   
_And I will sing a lullaby_

_Golden slumbers fill your eyes_   
_Smiles await you when you rise_   
_Sleep pretty darling do not cry_   
_And I will sing a lullaby..."_

He can do little then but stare at her and she turns redder even than her namesake as she mumbles her excuses.

“Mum used to sing it to me when I was little to help me sleep. It was dad’s favourite song.”

“He was a Beatles fan?”

“Guess so.” She shrugs and looks out between the trees. “Dunno why I was humming it.”

“If it’s a good song why not?” the Doctor winks at her and swings their hands between them. Rose smiles and then looks ahead, idly humming the melody once again and as they press on into the forest he joins in too and then murmurs the final verse under his breath.

 

  
_And in the end_   
_The love you take_   
_Is equal to the love_   
_You make..._


End file.
